


Pinocchio and the Real Boy

by Pendragons Dragonlord (PseudoAuthor)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Break Up, Compulsive Lying Disorder, F/M, Family Issues, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2402246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoAuthor/pseuds/Pendragons%20Dragonlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uther’s smile falters before failing completely much like Arthur’s now frequently does. “Don’t believe everything he tells you,” he says.</p><p>It sounds a lot like he’s begging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinocchio and the Real Boy

**Author's Note:**

> In some stories there's a line that is some variation of X saying 'don't believe everything Y tells you'. This is pretty much just that.
> 
> Warnings: as all ways, swearing but I think that's all. Of course if anyone has any issues, don't hesitate to let me know. 
> 
> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine, also, disclaimer - I don't own anything.

When Arthur walks into the bookstore he sees a young man trying valiantly to comfort a small crying child. _Poor guy…he’s cute though_ , he thinks surveying them out of the corner of his eye. He pulls out a book randomly from the shelf and hides behind it.

Yes he’s being creepy.

No he doesn’t stop. Not until he finds himself browsing through _The Discontented Little Baby Book_?

The wailing intensifies and the man looks like he’s about to cry himself. Discarding the book surreptitiously with a glance left and right, Arthur takes a hesitant step forward.

“Please don’t cry. I’m sure we’ll find your dad soon,” the man says gingerly patting the young boy’s head. The boy is small, with a round cherubic face framed by curly dark ringlets of hair.

“Is that him?” It is at this time, Arthur realises, that the man is pointing to him. The child scrubs at his eyes and hiccups once, glancing up at Arthur who forces a smile that in his opinion isn’t all that terrifying.

It’s a shame that the child doesn’t seem to agree; he bursts into a fresh round sobbing, turning around to plant his face in the man’s skinny shoulders. Arthur winces and mouths, ‘sorry’ to the man.

The man just rolls his eyes and pokes his chin out at the counter. “Would you mind, maybe getting them to put an announcement out?”

“What’s his name?” Arthur asks not daring to take a step closer. God only knows how this looks like to the three other people who surround them, pointedly ignoring the chaos that’s occurring right before their eyes.

“Hey…hush…we’ll help you find your dad, but I don’t know your name? If we put an announcement over the speaker he’ll come running to find you.” Arthur doesn’t know when this turned into a team effort and he’s a bit put out that he wasn’t consulted. What if he had important plans that were importantly urgent? He doesn’t; he’s trying to pick out a present for his father, but you know…it’s the principle of the thing.

The man doesn’t take note of Arthur’s inner musings. Instead he hugs the child and pats his back a few times until the sobbing quietens.

“M-m-Mord-dred.”

The man opens his eyes wide and grins kindly. “Brilliant, that’s an interesting name. Wanna guess my name?” The boy shakes his head. “That’s alright,” the man continues despite the rejection. “My name is Merlin.”

Mordred’s head whips up and he stares slack-jawed at the man who is now known as Merlin. “Really?” he questions. “Like the wizard?”

Arthur scoffs because, as Mordred said, like the wizard? “Really?”

Merlin frowns at Arthur and nods his head. “Yeah,” he confirms to Mordred with a little smile. To Arthur he glares and looked pointedly at the counter, “And do you mind…announcement? Lost child. Still here. Definitely not mine.”

Because it’s a child in peril and not because Arthur is totally taken in by Merlin’s blue eyes and elfin ears he goes to the counter and manages to relay the ‘we have a lost child’ message.

A few minutes later a red faced man runs towards the counter. “I’m…I’m here for my son.”

Arthur points to Merlin and Mordred who are still in the middle of the store. Merlin’s reading a picture book to Mordred – both of them looking absolutely enthralled as the page turns. Mordred gasps and points at the picture babbling excitedly. Merlin nods along.

Mordred looks up and bolts out of Merlin’s arms to his father’s outstretched ones. “Daddy!”

The man kisses Mordred’s head and thanks Merlin profusely. Mordred hugs Merlin’s knees before they depart.

“You’re good with kids.” Arthur says a few minutes later as Merlin gathers his bag and books from the floor. “Definitely better than me. My niece - Kara, can’t stand me. She tried to kill me once.”

“Uh…thanks. And, that’s not good.” Merlin replies. He ducks his head and tries to walk past, but Arthur moves to stand in his way. “Mate, do you need something?”

“Coffee,” Arthur says quickly.

A flash of irritation crosses Merlin’s face. “Shame you’re in a bookstore then.”

“I…that’s not what I mean.” Merlin cocks an eyebrow up, his upper lip curls with traces of amusement. Arthur doesn’t understand why he can’t get a sentence out properly. “What I wanted to say…I mean ask…shit. Would you like to go for coffee…with me?”

Merlin blinks at him; Arthur hopes that it’s flattered surprise rather than, ‘holy-shit-this-strange-man-is-harassing-me- if-I-stay-still-maybe-he’ll-go-away’. “You serious?”

“Apparently.”

“What, now?” Merlin readjusts his books and tries to glance at his watch.

“If you have the time.”

“I don’t…Tomorrow okay?”

“Yes!” Oh my god, did he seriously just yell out loud. Yes he did if Merlin’s shocked expression is anything to go by. “Shit…I…this is all your fault…” Merlin looks as if he’s about to splutter out a protest and to be honest, Arthur wouldn’t blame him. What the fuck is wrong with his mouth today? “I’ve never tripped up over someone before.”

The indignant look on Merlin’s face melts away to reveal a soft sort of fondness. “I can meet you here tomorrow at three?”

To prevent anymore foot in mouth syndrome Arthur just nods in agreement. Merlin doesn’t move though still smiling at him. “Ah…”

“If you really want I can just call you Blondie but something tells me that you’d probably hate that.”

 _Oh for fuck-sakes Arthur._ “I’m Arthur.”

After the bookstore, Arthur walks back home with his tongue thick in his throat and his head feeling fuzzy.

“Gwaine!” he shouts as he enters the flat already peeking in doors trying to find him. He sidesteps the pile of unfolded washing that’s spilled out from the basket and treks into the corridor. “Gwaine, I did something stupid- My eyes!” He backs out of the room quickly tripping backwards on the stupid fluffy rug that Percival insists on keeping outside the bathroom.

There’s a shout from within the bedroom.

Arthur hits the floor; arse first in a way that will leave him bruised for days followed by his elbows that meet the floorboards in that exact spot that makes tingles run up and down his arms.

“Arthur? Are you alright?” Percival calls from inside the room.

“Are you dressed?” he replies with his eyes still screwed shut.

There’s a nudge to his foot, and he cautiously opens an eye. Gwaine and Percival are standing above him.

Percival’s brow is furrowed, eyes apologetic.

Gwaine looks annoyed, but his eyes dance with mirth. “So Stupid, what did you do?”

Arthur swallows already trying to imagine the disappointing droop of Gwaine’s face as he says: “We have a niece called Kara who tried to kill me.”

Gwaine’s face falls and he turns around walking into the kitchen. Percival extends his hand to Arthur, hauling him up effortlessly and shaking his head slightly.

Real life, Arthur has found, always hurts more than imagination.

* * *

The next day Arthur throws up in the bathroom basin as soon as he wakes up. Nothing comes up except saliva and a little bit of bile. He sticks his fingers in his mouth convinced that something is still stuck down there.

He hears footsteps stop just near the threshold. When he looks up Percival is standing behind him. Arthur takes a brief look down and behind –Percival’s barefooted, toes curling over the metal strip separating tile from floorboard - confirming his suspicion that Percival got up as soon as he heard retching. “Gwaine?”

In a sleep roughened voice Percival says, “Stubborn.”

“Angry,” Arthur counters. He rinses his mouth and washes the sink down.

Leaning against the doorjamb Percival looks at him sadly. “Can you blame him?”

Arthur walks past Percival patting his chest tiredly. “No mate…I can’t.”

At three, as promised, Merlin and Arthur meet in the bookstore.

“You look a bit pale, are you sure you okay?”

“I’m fine – honestly.”

“So what do you do?” Merlin asks with a tilt of his head.

“I’m a photographer.” Merlin looks impressed. Arthur takes a sip of his coffee. “I travel a lot. Mostly magazine work…I’ve been commissioned by National Geographic a few times actually.”

“Seriously? That’s amazing.”

When Merlin smiles at him, Arthur feels his bite of cake turn into ash in his mouth. “Yeah, it’s not bad,” he replies pinching the bridge of his nose. What the hell is he doing? Merlin doesn’t deserve this.

He hears the clink of Merlin’s tea cup meeting its saucer. “Arthur? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just a bit tired, didn’t sleep properly last night,” he says taking Merlin’s hand and running a thumb over smooth knuckles.

Merlin’s cheeks turn pink and he begins to talk about his dissertation.

* * *

When they go out, Arthur’s careful to make sure it’s always somewhere low-key, further out of town where people won’t recognise him. It doesn’t take long for Merlin to cotton-on though – perceptive bloke that he is.

“Is there something wrong with us?” Merlin asks one Sunday whilst flipping pancakes on the stove.

Arthur hums, trying to spread the newspaper out on the table without creasing it. “What do you mean?” They’ve been together for a few months with last night being the first time he stayed over at Merlin’s house. It’s a small, quaint little place with geeky posters on the walls and books covering every available surface on the floor.

Merlin adds batter to the pan and turns to look at Arthur who’s still struggling with the newspaper. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way but are you still…in?”

“In?” Arthur repeats dumbly. Merlin bites his lip. “Oh… _oh_.” Pushing himself up, he walks over slipping his arms around Merlin’s waist. “No, I’m not. It’s just after I came out…father wasn’t very supportive. He was cold…distant, I couldn’t wait to get out of the house but I didn’t want leave Morgana.” He rests his chin on Merlin’s bare shoulder. “Father works with a lot of people in town and they are all as bad as he is. I guess I still care enough to not let my private life effect his company.”

Merlin turns his head to kiss Arthur softly. “I’m sorry to hear that…you are amazing. It’s his loss you know.”

* * *

It’s the first time he’s seen Merlin in two weeks. He’d forgotten that he told Merlin that his profession involved long periods of absence until Merlin brought it up wondering if Arthur was turning down jobs to stay in the country. This resulted in Arthur living in his room for two weeks to prove that he still received assignments.

If anyone asks he’s been in Russia.

They’re lying in bed, Arthur with his head on Merlin’s stomach, Merlin with his fingers in Arthur’s hair. “What are your folks like?”

“Mum and dad were great, you know…when they were apart.” Merlin shrugs. “They divorced when I was six. I stayed with mum, saw dad on weekends and holidays.” He shrugs again. “They weren’t ready for kids.”

Arthur buries his face in Merlin’s stomach, lips curving into a smile when Merlin flinches. _Ticklish spot_ , Arthur catalogues. “You sound like you were happy though.”

“I was…I am. They still love each other. Just couldn’t bear to live with each other.” Merlin turns onto his stomach, Arthur draws up to face him. “You don’t talk about your mum much.”

“She died during child birth. Not much to tell.”

Ringing interrupts the descending silence. “Arthur’s phone,” Merlin says humming in confirmation to something shouted. “It’s a ‘Gwaine’ for you.”

“Gwaine, what’s wrong?”

 _“Arfurr! Aryooo wiffa bloke! Ditchya hookap! Me wanna meech’im?”_ Gwaine slurs drunkenly.

Arthur frowns. “Gwaine, it’s only eleven, how did you get smashed so quickly?”

Breathing for a beat and then an agonised cry: _“Pershee’s gone!”_

“What do you mean gone?”

 _“Conference.”_ Arthur doesn’t ponder the wonder that is Gwaine’s brain when it comes to drunken word pronunciation.

“I’m coming to get you. Leon’s I’m assuming?”

There’s a tussle; grunts and whines coming down the line. _“L’On gimme-I’ll give it after I talk to…Gwaine! Artfur, ‘ukoff! Arthur, everything’s under control but would you mind getting him?”_ Leon says breathlessly. In the background Gwaine starts to slur the lyrics to ‘ _All By Myself’_. _“Oh gosh, he’s started singing. People are leaving.”_ Though Leon can’t see him, Arthur knows that the barman is only a few seconds away from begging on his knees.

“Be there in a few Leon.”

Merlin sits up, pulling on his skivvy. “What’s going on?” he asks as his head pops out from the top.

Arthur pulls on his shoes. “My mate’s wasted. Gotta go pick him up from the pub.”

When Merlin grabs his keys he looks at Arthur fondly. “You didn’t bring your car you dollophead.”

Merlin is correct so Arthur finds himself crammed into his boyfriend’s tiny Volkswagen. They drive together in silence only broken with ‘take a left here, right at the roundabout’ and other such directions. When the pub comes into view Arthur instructs Merlin to idle in the front.

Inside the pub the situation isn’t as dire as Leon made it out to be for a Friday night. The booths are full, the taps flowing with amber.

He ducks around the bar. “Leon? Gwaine?”

Leon appears, glass in hand, dishcloth towelling it dry. “He’s sleeping it off in the back. How come every time Percy goes away for more than three days he gets drunk?” he asks leading Arthur to the office.

Arthur shrugs, eyes clapping on the solitary figure taking up the couch.

Leon answers his own question. “Must be love. The hangovers aren’t worth it otherwise.” That’s outstanding wisdom from a guy who used to drink a shot every time Morgana so much as looked in his direction. Consequently, Leon doesn’t remember much from the first year and a half of university. Everyone, including Leon’s liver, thanked the heavens when he and Morgana got together.

Arthur crouches before the couch and hit’s Gwaine’s cheek gently. “That’s romantic of you.”

Leon nods solemnly. “Would you tell that to Morgana?”

“Does she have an address this time?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Then I guess she’ll never know.”

He pats Gwaine’s cheek again. “Gwaine? Let’s go, c’mon. Percy and his hulk arms aren’t here to carry you out.”

Gwaine snuffles further into the couch and lets out a drunken snore. “Gwaine…” Arthur needles poking Gwaine in the cheek. “You drunk arsehole, what would Percy say?” At Percy’s name Gwaine turns and bats his hand against Arthur’s face.

“P’cy…” he mumbles.

Eventually between Arthur and Leon they manage to get Gwaine in the car, still passed out.

When Arthur climbs into the passenger seat Leon leans through the window, quickly shaking hands with Merlin. To Arthur he says: “That’s the third time this month.”

“I know.” Arthur swallows, looking at Gwaine sprawled out in the back seat.

With a tap to the roof of the car they pull out. Arthur finds that the snoring compliments the purr of the engine. “What did he mean by that?” Merlin asks as he pulls outside their flat.

When Arthur manages to get a handle of Gwaine he steps away from the car. “It’s exactly as it sounds like.”

Merlin’s eyes widen and he ducks his head to survey the still sleeping Gwaine against Arthur’s side. “He’s an alcoholic?”

Arthur doesn’t think about it, about the potential implications…the words don’t even register in his brain “Yeah.”

* * *

Merlin steps out of the shadows and follows the man down the corridor. He had been waiting to see Gaius and get notes about his dissertation before he caught the name of the man who had walked right past him. They reach the front doors leading outside before Merlin yells out the man’s name.

The man slows; confusion apparent across his face.

“Uther Pendragon?” Merlin says again.

Uther smiles bright and friendly albeit a little curious. “Yes, can I help you?”

“I’m Merlin.”

“I’ve heard about you,” Uther says holding his hand out. He’s looks younger than Merlin expected. Although a scar decorates one of his eyes and his hair is short and grey.

Merlin returns the handshake “Arthur’s told me about you,” he says, trying and failing not to glare at the older man.

For a second Uther’s eyes widen and the brightness within them dull – a miniscule fleeting moment that one could miss if they were so inclined.

Merlin is not so inclined and he feels like he’s just said something wrong.

Uther’s smile falters before failing completely much like Arthur’s now frequently does. “Don’t believe everything he tells you,” he says.

It sounds a lot like he’s begging.

“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt but your car’s waiting for you. We’ll be late otherwise.” A man, _George_ , Merlin’s mind supplies helpfully darting to the embroidered name tag steps back respectfully.

“It was nice meeting you.” Uther looks down and then up at Merlin. “You make him happy. Goodbye Merlin.”

Just in front of the revolving doors Uther leaves Merlin speechless and fifteen minutes late for his appointment.

* * *

“Leon, your finest ale please.” Gwaine slumps down onto the stool and rests his head against the counter. Kids…so many kids and parents…all the parents. Parent-teacher interviews are the stuff of nightmares.

Leon holds the glass just out of reach. “Is Percival home?”

Gwaine nods. “Two days now. He’s sleeping off the jetlag. He says Uther might send him out again soon to Sweden. Percy thinks Uther has designs on _Ikea_.”

Leon snorts unsurprised. “Where did he go to this time?”

“Japan…he bought me back a robot.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. Not a big one. It’s about yay-high,” Gwaine said parting his hands no more than a glass width apart. “Can’t do much with it, but it’s cool.”

Satisfied that Gwaine isn’t going to drink his body into oblivion Leon pushes the glass towards him.

Gwaine’s head goes back down onto the counter. To his left he hears the shuffle of a bag on placed on the floor and the squeak of the barstool being pulled out. He then hears Leon’s voice go: “Hey, Merlin right?”

“That’s me,” the voice says.

“Gwaine, this is Merlin, Arthur new beau.”

Gwaine lifts his head in time to see Merlin’s eyes bug out and choke on his beer. “Hey,” he greets. “So you’re Merlin.” He grins widely taking in Merlin’s friendly face and too trusting eyes.

Dressed in slacks, white shirt and yellow tie, Merlin sticks his hand out in greeting. “You’re Arthur’s mate.”

The grin dims and the handshake turns limp.

Leon casts a worrying look at Gwaine who takes a swig of his beer hunching further in on himself. Merlin frowns. “Have I said something wrong?” He feels like he’s done it again. His stomach does a little flop. It’s that same sort of shame that he felt when he talked to Uther although he doesn’t understand why.

Defeated, Gwaine looks up at the roof breathing in slowly. “Nah mate, you’re good.”

“I drove you and Arthur home when you got a bit wasted. You probably don’t remember much.”

Taking another swig he rolls the liquid from one side of his mouth to the other before swallowing. “Thanks then.”

He’s well aware that Merlin’s been watching him since he sat down. Finally Merlin opens his mouth. “Are you sure about that?” he says nodding to the glass still in his hand.

Leon who was down at the other end of the bar starts hovering closer, feigning cleaning the counter.

“Should you- I mean, I get that it’s not my business or anything…but Arthur…” he stutters to a stop and plays with the coaster.

 _Of course you did,_ Gwaine thinks. He puts the glass down and turns, fully facing Merlin. “What’s he told you?”

Gwaine catches Leon’s shaking his head subtly to Merlin. “It’s-shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Tell me what the princess had to say.”

It’s half obvious what Merlin’s thinking. “Just that-“

“Anything I drink in here may be one drink too many.” Draining the rest of his glass he pays Leon and stands scooping up his jacket and bag. Merlin looks so remorseful.

“He’s just worried, don’t be angry,” Merlin says quietly.

* * *

“Oi Princess, arse here right now!” After Leon’s he didn’t go immediately home, trying to work out what to say to Arthur. Now it’s almost 11:30 in the night and he still doesn’t know.

Arthur stumbles out from his bedroom. “Gwaine, what the hell, people are sleeping mate. Percy’s out looking for you because you wouldn’t pick up your phone.”

A pang of regret goes out to Percival who’s stumbling around in the dark. Gwaine turns on his phone ignoring the numerous missed calls and texts his partner. “There, Percy’s sorted. Now we need to talk about Merlin.”

“What about Merlin?” The blood drains from Arthur’s face.

“I am tired of pretending. What did you go with this time? I’m your alcohol addicted best friend who lives on your couch because I refuse to get a job?”

Arthur swallows.

“What makes you think that people prefer a caricature instead of god-forbid, the real you.” He doesn’t let Arthur answer. “Have you sold him anymore bullshit?”

“No.”

Arthur’s eye lid twitches. “You’re doing it again!”

Defensive, Arthur stalks forward into the middle of the lounge room with his arms thrown wide. “It’s not that easy for me.”

“Well it hasn’t been a walk in the park for me either. You utter…” Gwaine struggles to come up with a word but realises that there’s no point. This has been going on for years and as far as he can tell it’s not going to change.

He looks at the mantle where pictures of them cover its entirety. There’s only one option that won’t end in Arthur and him never speaking to each other again.

Arthur just stands there in the middle of the room, fingers playing with the bottom of his grey t-shirt – the picture of innocence; his little brother. “This isn’t fair mate, not to me, and certainly not to Percy. You need help and I don’t think we should live together anymore.”

* * *

Arthur arrives at Merlin’s doorstep with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a few days of beard growth covering his jaw. He’s been on ‘assignment’ – this time to South Africa.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be coming home today?” Merlin says.

“Thought it’d be a nice surprise. We finished early.”

“Can I see?”

“All the good stuff’s back in the office. I took a printout…I only have one that I bought with me.”

“Good enough.” Arthur digs into his bag and takes out crappy-quality photo that he printed from the internet scrolling as far down as possible on Google’s image search. Merlin looks at the picture, an uncomfortable flash of something cutting across his face. “It’s…good.” Arthur shrugs in response. It’s downtrodden enough for Merlin to shift his eyes from that godforsaken picture. “What’s wrong?”

“Gwaine’s moving out because his boyfriend doesn’t like me.”

“That sucks.”

“I don’t even understand why. We were totally fine before he came along and then he came and everything changed.”

“People change,” Merlin says taking his hand.

“People, not Gwaine. He’s drinking more and it’s definitely not job stress.”

“You think something’s up.”

Arthur’s thinking of the silence that has descended in his flat. The usual bustle in the kitchen, clattering pots and pans, Percival grunting as he strains to do push-ups, Gwaine’s incessant chatter – it’s all gone.

Don’t be mistaken, the duo still live there, there’s still laughter and smiles and movie nights; just, he’s not a part of it anymore.

And he doesn’t blame them.

“Yeah Percival.”

Really he doesn’t.

* * *

“Merlin, what are you doing?”

“I’m just looking for some information.” Gwen continues to stare. “It’s for something important. Honestly.”

“That’s vague of you,” she murmurs crawling over the covers to sit next to him. Her eyes widen at the information on screen. “Domestic violence…Merlin, what’s going on?”

“I told you already, I’m researching.”

“For what?”

“A book…I’m writing a book.”

She sighs pulling the laptop away from him. “Are you in any trouble? Should I call Lance?” Gwen looks at the page scrolling through the information. “I know I’ve been a bit…distant. Just because Lance and I are getting ready for the baby doesn’t mean that I don’t have time for you. You can tell me anything.”

Merlin doesn’t know what to do, but he didn’t want Gwen to feel bad. That is the last thing he wants because Gwen was excellent. Her and Lance are brilliant together and with the baby on the way…it’s a no brainer.

“Gwen, I’m fine; you aren’t abandoning me, I know this. I am so happy for you,” he says sincerely.

She looks unsure. “You’ll tell me if something’s up?”

“First person I’ll go to – I promise.”

“So how’s Arthur?” She opens a new tab and types in ‘baby names’. “Merlin?” She nudges his shoulder when he doesn’t respond. “What’s wrong pet?”

Merlin takes in a breath and pulls out the picture that Arthur had given him. “He said that this is one of the pictures he took.”

Gwen looks at the printout, confusion clearly displayed on her face. It’s beautiful, green grass, clear blue sky, a valley that could go on for miles if Mother Nature had intended it so. “Oh pet," she murmurs behind her hand. "Are you sure?”

* * *

“Park, let’s go.” Gwaine tosses the rugby ball to Percival who catches it easily in one hand. “C’mon move you backside – daylight’s wasting away.”

Percival throws the ball in the vicinity of the couch frowning. “You promised me that we’d stay in today.” He butters the piece of toast once abandoned on the counter and bites it whilst walking past Gwaine.

“But, look sunshine!” The blinds are dramatically pulled open allowing streams of light to enter the flat.

“I’m tired love.”

“Just for an hour or two?”

“You really want to go out?” Percival asks with a half-hearted sigh. He’s going to give in. Gwaine can apparently sense it too because he grins practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

Gwaine winks grabbing the ball and pitching it towards Percival already halfway out the door. “I’ll meet you at the park.”

He can’t resist teasing. “Are you sure you can manage to be away from me for that long?”

As expected, Gwaine’s head appears through the door with a pout.

“I’ll see you soon,” Percival laughs pushing Gwaine’s head out and closing the door.

When Percival finally reaches the park he sees Gwaine sitting in the grass, head tilted up to the sky with a flowering weed sticking out of his mouth. “Alright I’m here you slave-driver.”

“Kinky,” Gwaine retorts with a wink.

Percival rolls his eyes. “Shut up and play. First to twenty-one wins. Those two trees are my posts…” he trails off looking around the park for suitable goal posts for Gwaine. “You get between the bin and the bench.”

Cockily, Gwaine gets up, knees slightly bent. “Bring it.”

 _Done_ , Percival thinks. Ball in hand he skirts around Gwaine, feeling fingers just brush against his t-shirt. He doesn’t look back until he reaches his two trees and plants the ball right in between them. “Brought it!” he crows.

Gwaine runs up and tackles him to the ground. Dark hair brushes his face; elbows hit him in uncomfortable places, the wind is knocked out of his lungs. “I’ll win the next one.”

He brings his hand up and cups the back of Gwaine’s neck, thumb pressing just under the hairline. “Little man, I have no doubt about it,” he says smiling. Gwaine just grins back sunnily and moves off him.

Without the ball Percival moves into position, eyes assessing; watching the tilt of Gwaine’s shoulders and the movements of his legs in an attempt to judge his movement.

Gwaine breaks out into a run breaking left and right trying to get past. With a fake to the right, he spins around Percival and made it to his posts. In the air he draws one and points to himself.

They continue like this for a few more points; Gwaine scores another one, before Percival makes six in a row leaving Gwaine panting after him all but wiped out. Gwaine brings his total up to three using underhanded – but well received – tactics when he drags Percival into a kiss leaving him dazed and stupid.

At Percival scoring fifteen they break. Gwaine runs to the drink tap, leaning over to spray himself in the face, relishing the cold water cooling his skin. As he looks up, flicking his hair from his eyes he catches the eye of a cute blonde walking past him. He’s only being polite, sending her a smile that is welcomed and returned. Whilst sending a smile is all well and good, overuse of the eyes has apparently dimmed the ears.

He doesn’t hear Percival call his name, eyes still lingering on her figure disappearing into the distance. He doesn’t see that Percival has launched the ball in his direction. He does however; curse the gods and anyone else who is willing to listen as pain flares across his face. He hunches over, hands pressing against his eye in attempt to abate the pain.

“Oh shit, Gwaine! Gwaine! Can you hear me?” Gwaine feels himself dragged up into strong arms. Gentle fingers prod around his eye. “Gods, I am so sorry…I-I thought you saw me throwing it to you.”

Gwaine draws in a sharp breath as Percival continues his ministrations. The pain dulls throb - mini waves every few seconds or so. He wonders how bad the bruising would look already fearing the for the amount of explaining he has to do. He loves his job but his colleagues and students are nosy little shits.

“Gwaine, answer me?” There’s a little panicked shake to his shoulder that feels more like being in the midst of an earthquake. “Hospital…”

“Percy, my hearing’s fine you wanker,” he grumbles. He tries cracking the eye open but hisses unable to manage anything more than a flutter. “My eye hurts.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Aye, calm down. Call it karma for checking out that woman instead of you.”

“You weren’t doing anything wrong.” At another prod and hiss, Percival winces, and quickly pecks Gwaine’s unbruised cheek. “I really am sorry.”

“I know love,” Gwaine says patting Percival’s hand that rests on his shoulder. Poor guy looks like the epitome of kicked puppy. “On the plus side, if I get an eye-patch you know what that means?” By Percival’s unenthusiastic response (blinking) he clearly doesn’t. “Pirate sex roleplay!”

* * *

“Gwaine what happened to you?”

“Gwen!” Gwaine greets fully removing his sunglasses. “Just a bit of an accident.”

Accident looks like an understatement. Gwaine’s eye is swollen, skin puffy and red that bleeds out into purples and blues. The top of his cheek is inflamed, swollen too with a line cutting vertically down just under his bottom eyelid with grazes as well. “You look horrible.”

Gwaine covers the left side of his face with the palm of his hand. “If you ignore that part of my face I still look sexy.” Gwen can’t help but laugh. “What are you doing here Gwennie? Thought Lance would have you rolled up in cotton wool. Leon won’t serve you, just so you know.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well aware Gwaine. And he tried but I threated to club him. He was smart and agreed when I said I needed to get out. Did you go and teach with that?”

“Percival wouldn’t let me. Said I’d scare the kids. Scared Arthur a bit come to think of it.”

“Smart man you have there. Don’t understand what he’s doing with you.” Leon pops up from behind the bar making Gwaine jump.

“Hey! I’m hurt be nice.”

“Gwen, sorry I’m late.” Merlin huffs and rests his arms against the counter. “Gaius wasn’t happy with my chapter.” When he looks up he blinks in surprise seeing Gwaine and almost shrieks. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I was a bit silly and got hit in the face.” Leon laughs and Merlin frowns glaring. “It was my fault.”

Shaking his head earnestly, Merlin cautiously places a hand on Gwaine’s hand. “Gwaine, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Uh, yeah it was. I should’ve been watching him instead of ogling the cute blonde jogging by.”

They’re joined by Lance who easily picks up the conversation. “Did Merlin tell you what I do for a living?”

Looking relieved Merlin gestures around to Lance. “Gwaine, this is my mate Lance.”

“I’m covering Gwen’s class until she’s off maternity leave. I’ve heard lots about you Lance. Congrats on the bub.”

“Back to the point. Lance works as a policeman, so if you ever need something…to get away, to get someone away from you…like a boyfriend…”

Leon’s mouth drops open already seeing the end-destination of this ill-advised conversation. “Merlin stop – it’s not what you think.”

“Yeah Merlin. I appreciate whatever you are trying to say because to be honest with you I have no idea what you’re getting at. Why would I want to get away from Percy?”

“The bruise…oh my god…” Merlin trails off quickly scooting back hands pressed against his eyes.

Oh… _oh_. “I got hit by a ball in the park!” Gwaine erupts. Lance quickly places himself between the two men. “Where do you get off accusing someone you don’t even know?”

“Arthur-“Merlin tries to explain. The group collectively groan.

“This is getting ridiculous.” Leon’s shuffles forward as Lance moves behind him to pull up glasses and alcohol. For Gwen he gets a juice and gives her a sheepish look. “Sorry.” Gwen just waves the apology away and drains the glass.

At the sound of a horn outside Leon looks up and excuses himself.

“Will someone please explain what’s going on?”

“Oh, this sounds desperate, tell me more,” says a low pitched voice.

“Morgana.” Leon says warningly depositing the suitcase out of sight before resuming his place next to Lance.

Merlin nods in her direction. “Morgana…as in Arthur’s sister?”

“Morgana,” she confirms taking his hand, “as in Arthur’s _cousin_.”

Merlin goes pale very quickly. “What – he definitely said sister.”

Morgana walks up to Gwaine and slings an arm around his shoulder. “I’m sure Gwaine was thrilled. What was he relegated to, butler, best friend – I’ll be forever impressed if Arthur convinced him to do lover.”

“Alcoholic best friend who is apparently in a violent relationship,” Gwaine replies winding an arm around Morgana’s waist. Morgana kisses his forehead with a frown; an apology in light of the obvious distress that this has caused him.

"Can someone please explain what is going on? I don't understand."

At Merlin's distress Morgana takes pity. “You aren’t alone – trust me sweetheart. Listen, when it comes to Arthur you could ask that stupid fool a million questions and only receive a truthful answer to ten of them.”

* * *

> _Sender: Merlin Emrys_
> 
> Arthur, I met someone very interesting this morning. We should meet…outside the library. Morgana says hello, and for your information, she’s your cousin…not your sister.  
>   
>  _Message received: 1:15PM_

* * *

He has never been so nervous before.

Really. He has half a mind to run from this impending meeting and move across to…to _New Zealand._ Merlin won’t understand, it would be just like his mother all over again. He’s pulled from his musing when shadow hovers over him.

_Merlin._

“So…Gwaine’s not an alcoholic.”

That’s all that gets said to him as Merlin walks to the door of the bookstore and holds the door open. With a jerk of his head, the door closes behind him and Arthur takes a minute to process the fact that he has to follow. Arthur doesn’t try to engage in conversation, instead just following Merlin until they get to a café.

Merlin orders tea for both of them before leading them to a quiet corner. Arthur doesn’t want to sit but Merlin looks at him expectantly.

“Gwaine’s not an alcoholic,” Merlin says again.

Arthur shakes his head minutely. “No…he just likes drinking…Percival’s also the loveliest guy you could ever hope to meet. From what you told me about Lance he gives him a run for his money.”

“Arthur, look at me, and explain everything because I’m trying to understand what I did here to make you lie to me so many times-“

At this Arthur flails, tea sloshing over the rim of his cup, eyes wide and slightly panicked. “No!” Ignoring the looks he receives from others in the café he repeats himself and forces Merlin to sit down opposite him. “This was never about you.”

“So everyone keeps telling me but I still don’t understand.”

“I can’t explain it.”

“You know what made me really suspicious?” From his brown satchel, Merlin pulls out that infernal printout. “This picture.” He smooths it out. “I’ve told you a lot about my family since we’ve been together. Part of why my parents divorced was that they still wanted to do their own things. My dad was a photographer – freelance. He took this when I was seventeen. He gave it to Gwen and Lance as a wedding present. It hangs in their kitchen.” He refolded the picture tucking it under the edge of the saucer and stood. “You lie…a lot. And you hurt those closest to you. Do you have any idea what you put your brother through? And he cares too much to say anything so he _won’t_ say anything. That’s so manipulative. There nothing much you can say to deny it. I don’t even know if you’re lying to me now.”

“I’m not.”

“But I don’t know that do I? And if everything else you told me was bullshit then what? You’re seriously asking me to take you at face value?”

“Yes…no. I really like you. That is the only truth worth knowing.”

“I really liked you too…hell I probably love you but it doesn’t mean much does it. Not when I don’t actually know who you are.” Merlin makes a decision. Arthur can see it in his eyes, the blues have made way to stormy grey, and the little crinkles at the edges are pulled down. He looks so sad as he gets up, fingers curled around the top of the chair, knuckles gone white. “Bye Arthur.”

Arthur doesn’t stop him.

* * *

He feels numb.

And then he finds himself standing outside his front door.

And that’s when it all comes crashing down. The weight of what he’s done. Never mind he hasn’t worked in years because his father can’t trust him, or the only friends he’s managed to keep are those who knew him before the lies got too big, too many, too often. He’s lost Merlin, and probably his brother which means Percy too.

He hovers outside, unsure as to whether he has to knock now or if he’s welcome at all.

Steps sound behind him.

“He’s angry.”

Arthur doesn’t turn from the door as Percival reaches around him to open it. “I understand.”

“Me too.”

“Don’t blame you.” The door swings open. Percival walks through an arm holding it still. “I bought Moroccan. C’mon Arthur.”

* * *

Morgana’s off on another assignment, somewhere in Antarctica to photograph penguins. She sends him postcards with fluffy baby penguin-down stuck between the cardboard and a layer of sticky tape. Uther meets with Alice – together they talk about Ygraine leaving them when Arthur was just nine.

Alice calls it leaving.

Uther calls it finding herself.

Arthur calls it abandonment.

They also talk about Gwaine’s adoption a year later.

Uther only had good intentions. Gwaine needed a home. Arthur needed a friend. Their house needed to become a home.

Alice calls it replacement.

Uther calls it extending the family.

Arthur calls it a pre-emptive strike (just in case Uther lost Arthur too).

He rages too. Let’s out every piece of resentment that he’s held in his chest for the last thirteen years. Uther apologises not realising just how his actions have impacted on his son.

Alice asks Gwaine to join them for sessions.

Gwaine doesn’t agree until Arthur begs one night almost on the verge of a panic attack.

Gwaine and Percival haven’t moved out.

* * *

Its three months later when Arthur has the urge to call Merlin.

He goes and sees Alice. Paces in front of her so many times that she remarks that the carpet will have to be replaced after lunch at the rate he’s going.

“Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“Good is relative. What do you hope to come out of it?”

“I really liked him.”

“You hope he’ll take you back?”

“No, I hope that in time he’ll believe me when I tell him something. I want to be friends with him; maybe eventually he’ll let me try again. I’m just worried about pushing him away.”

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“Yeah I am, Alice.”

“You know why you did it?”

Arthur’s voice hitches and he collapses into the chair. “Because I wanted to be enough. I wasn’t worth my mum sticking around so I always had to be greater than I am - something more.” He scrubs his face and looks out the window. In a small voice he says, “But I’m okay as I am.”

Alice grins behind her hand admiring the young man before her. His self-awareness has been remarkable and so has his improvement. Clearing her throat, she sits up. “You’ve made a lot of progress you know. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I guess.” Arthur says a little shy. The praise he’s receiving for being truthful feels so different to what he received when lying.

He still wants to call Merlin.

He leaves it for another week because Alice has told him that he needs to learn a bit about impulse control.

* * *

“I ate jam for breakfast today.”

He can hear Merlin breathing down the line.

_“Great. What do you want me to do about it?”_

“Nothing I just wanted you to know.”

_“Okay.”_

Merlin hangs up.

“Gwaine.”

“Arthur.”

“Can you do me a favour?” he asks holding out Gwaine’s mobile.

Gwaine doesn’t look impressed as Percival takes the phone. “What do you need mate?”

“Take a picture of me eating jam with you and send it to Merlin?”

“I can do that.” Percival follows Arthur into the kitchen and snaps a picture with Arthur holding a strawberry jam jar. He then takes the jar stepping behind Arthur who’s looking up pouting as the jam is held over his head. He snaps another photo.

They hear a bark of laughter from the doorway, Gwaine watching them with curious amusement. “You won’t even be able to see the jar in that picture.”

Percival smirks nudging Arthur’s shoulder. “Well then you come over here and hold it over his head.”

Gwaine scowls. “Gigantor! That’s fucking low.”

Percival grins, jar still in the air, shaking it as a reminder. “Only way for you to reach babe.”

Arthur pretends to gag until he feels something hit the top of his head and slide down his fringe. “Aww Percy mate, you got jam in my hair.”

Percival snaps another photo. “Gwaine stop being a sulky bastard and get in here already.”

* * *

Merlin is sitting in Gaius’ office when his mobile buzzes. He frowns seeing Arthur’s name highlighted onscreen but he has to admit he’s curious.

Gaius coughs from behind his desk. “You should see what he wants.”

When Merlin opens the picture file he sees a picture of Arthur eating jam. He snorts.

Another buzz. The second file shows Percival, arm outstretched to take the photo with the other around Gwaine’s shoulders. Gwaine isn’t looking at the camera instead his face is turned, nose against Arthur’s jam covered cheek. Arthur’s got his arms out trying to push Gwaine away, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a laugh and more jam dripping down his face.

Merlin takes a quick look up and catches Gaius smiling at him. He jumps a little when another buzz occurs and opens the text.

* * *

> _Sender: Arthur Pendragon_
> 
> Truth number 1: I really ate jam for breakfast because we don’t have bread.  
>  Truth number 2: this is Gwaine – my brother, Percy – my brother’s partner, and me.  
>  Truth number 3: I still miss you but I’m happy…I hope that’s okay? – Arthur.
> 
> _Message received: 9:42AM_

* * *

 Merlin stares at the text unsure about what to do. Eventually types out: _You should buy bread. I’d like to meet them soon. That’s more than okay_ _–M._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was okay and the relationship changes weren't too weird. Thank you for reading :)


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